


Unsewn Oats

by misura



Category: Kings (TV 2009)
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, most people, they go out for a bit of air and they come back with, oh, I don't know. A new shirt. A fresh perspective. A flashy car. A kitten, maybe. Not so, you. Not David Shepherd."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsewn Oats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SorchaR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorchaR/gifts).



> this is not an in-depth exploration of how David and Jack hooked up
> 
> this is not an exciting story about a revolution and the crowning of a new king (for real, this time)
> 
> this is, simply put, fluffy fluff with sidetrips into fluff territory and an occasional bit of banter. also, a baby, but it doesn't get any lines
> 
> (also, this is a Yuletreat)

Jack didn't know why these sorts of events even surprised him anymore, really he didn't. Given the frequency with which they occurred, he felt he should have built up a tolerance to them by now, an ability to take it all in stride: four monthly reports full of lies, six death threats, twenty-three letters requiring his personal signature and David, gone for what seemed like five minutes only to return with a - well.

"You know, most people, they go out for a bit of air and they come back with, oh, I don't know. A new shirt. A fresh perspective. A flashy car. A kitten, maybe. Not so, you. Not David Shepherd."

David looked a bit sheepish (pun very much intended) but not like he was actually sorry. "Yeah. I think you're the only one who ever did the car thing, actually. I mean, the shirt, maybe, but a _car_?"

"It was very flashy," Jack said, because he'd spent half a lifetime practicing how not to talk about the elephant in the room. "Red, of course. Like fresh blood."

David grimaced. "It's not even lunch time yet."

"Then consider this my moment of slightly psychotic jackassery after breakfast," Jack said, rather gracefully, if he thought so himself. "Although breakfast may be a slight overstatement of reality."

"You had coffee," David translated.

"Well, some of us need to work," Jack said. "Government is like that."

"Are you saying I'm not pulling my weight around here?" David asked, and bless him, the expression on his face was genuinely hurt for a moment there.

Jack considered drawing it out for a bit, see if he could get David worked up to the point of an actual guilt trip. There might be a few tears - but then again, he might slip up and get punched for his efforts instead, which wasn't exactly Jack's idea of fun. 

It made the guards uneasy, too, even if, of course, regardless of who'd swung first, they always blamed Jack for everything. (Jack wasn't sure when they'd started screening guards for intelligence. He didn't think it was an improvement, really.)

"Never," Jack said cheerfully, signing another useless piece of paper with a flourish.

David looked like he might want to pursue the issue, then thought better of it. "Good."

"I try to be." Jack considered. "Well, I try not to be actively _bad_. That works, I guess."

David didn't do flattery. It was one of his many, many not at all endearing character flaws. "You do all right. You're not terrible."

"Well, let's not go overboard with the superlatives, shall we?" Jack said. "You might make me blush."

David actually smiled at that one. "I seriously doubt anything I could do or say would accomplish _that_."

"It's true, I'm a deeply jaded and cynical individual. Personally, I blame my upbringing. By the way, much as I'm enjoying this little chat, are we going to talk about _that_?"

"Him," David said. "It's a boy."

"Adorable." Jack reached for the next report. "Has he got your eyes? Your nose?"

"No," David said, as if Jack's question had actually been serious, could actually have been serious. Which Jack was fairly sure it could not have been, because David was, well, David.

"I believe there's a Lost and Found desk in this building somewhere."

"He's a - " David started, then shut up. Briefly. "He's not _mine_. I mean, well, I guess he _is_ , but not like that. Not like - "

Jack closed his eyes and counted to ten. David and the baby were still there when he opened his eyes again. "David. Am I going to have to explain the birds and the bees to you? It's not yours - and I believe you, by the way - ergo, it's someone else's. It's biology."

"They left him," David said. "In a basket. They're not going to ask for him back, whoever they are."

"People change their minds sometimes."

"We talked about this," David said. "We agreed."

Jack really wished he didn't understand where David was going with this. It couldn't possibly be healthy to see God's hand in every little thing, to find divine purpose in every coincidence.

Plus, it was just _unsettling_ to stumble into a random hotel room ten seconds after having almost been shot and discover that not only was it the honeymoon suite, it also had David in it. Naked. Covered in rose petals. Like, what did that say about God?

Jack might have admitted to a slight exhibitionist streak, but there were limits.

"We talked about adoption."

"Yes," David said. "And this is God's answer. God's choice."

There were six guards in the room. Jack noted how all of their faces were completely blank, like they neither heard nor saw nor even spoke. "Maybe it is. God won't mind if we check, do we? Just to be on the safe side?"

"You won't find anything." David looked stubborn.

Jack wondered if he himself would ever be able to believe anything so absolutely, so blindly, and then he remembered that he had, once upon a time. It hadn't turned out so well for him, but then, David was different. It was a miracle nobody'd killed him yet because of it.

"Great. That's settled then. Now maybe you could do some paperwork?"

David hesitated. "I think maybe I should find some stuff, first, or get some. You know, baby stuff."

"Any excuse to get out of this room." Jack sighed and shook his head. "Typical."

"Fine." David lifted his chin. "Then we'll trade. You deal with the baby, I deal with ... whatever that is." His gesture encompassed the entire desk, although Jack assumed he meant today's crisis du jour, the grazing rights dispute.

"Nice," Jack said. "Offer me something to look generous, but make it something only you know I would never take. You'll be a diplomat and a politician yet."

David half-smiled. "Maybe you're not so bad a teacher as you think."

"It's not my teaching that's at fault, it's my student."

"Look," David said, "I'll come back, okay? You're right; we're in this together, and I'm going to do my fair share of the work."

"Go." Jack made a shooing motion. "Go forth and break out the diapers and milk bottles and soft, squeaky toys. And next time you wish to step out for some air, remind me to shoot you first."

David grinned. "Don't you think it might be nice for him to have a sister or something?"

"Go," Jack said. "Go now. Your King commands you."

"I hear and obey," David said, which was such a blatant lie Jack didn't even bother calling him on it.


End file.
